


Alternative Methods

by ToriCeratops



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Barebacking, Blow Jobs, Desk Sex, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Light D/s, M/M, Office Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-03
Updated: 2020-02-03
Packaged: 2021-02-19 00:35:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22535695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToriCeratops/pseuds/ToriCeratops
Summary: Gil watches Malcolm’s hands, how they move so animatedly as he talks.  His suit jacket has been forgotten who knows where and his sleeves are folded neatly up to his elbows.  The only visual indications that he’s out of sorts at all is that his tie is slightly loose and there is a single lock of hair hanging over his eye.  Gil leans back in his chair, hands steepled, listening, watching, thinking.Originally he had brought him here to break into his locked desk drawer and have a drink.  But Malcolm has been going non stop for three days and obviously needs more than that. There’s no convincing him to stop for a proper rest - to go home and start over in the morning.  He won’t sleep - Gil knows that much. But there is another way he can force a hard reset on him.
Relationships: Gil Arroyo/Malcolm Bright
Comments: 20
Kudos: 138
Collections: Prodigal Son Kink Meme





	Alternative Methods

**Author's Note:**

> A fill for a prompt on the [Kink-Meme](https://prodigal-kink.dreamwidth.org/%22).
> 
> And as always, all the special thanks to Kate for the quick Beta.

“I think if I look at another case file I’m going to go cross eyed.” Gil flips the folder in his hand closed and slaps it down on the stack in front of him. It’s incredibly satisfying right up until he has to reach out to steady the leaning pile to keep it from falling over. 

Malcolm rubs at his eyes and nods. “I could probably use a break myself.” 

It’s late, pushing midnight late, and they’re the last two still in the Major Crimes office at the precinct. Dani and JT had called it a night hours ago, but Malcolm was sure he could find someone in Judge Andrews’ case records that would fit the profile. He’d given enough information to Gil to help him out and since he wasn’t about to leave the guy alone, Gil had stayed to help. 

Though he’d rather be at Malcolm’s apartment, layed out and sleeping in that stupidly luxurious bed of his, he knows Maclolm wouldn’t join him. No, he’d stay up, finding a way to work the case from home. Gil has to take solace in the fact that he at least got Malcolm to eat something a few hours ago.

“Let’s go to my office; get away from all this for a few minutes,” Gil suggests. 

It takes him a few minutes but eventually Malcolm gives in and follows, quiet and turned in on himself. 

The internal blinds are still pulled tight from earlier in the day when the commissioner had come for an update on the case. Two dead judges and several more with threatening letters needed to be closed as quickly - and as quietly - as possible. He leaves the overhead off, the lamp in the corner and the city lights filtering through the external windows more than enough to see by. 

Though Gil takes a seat at his desk as soon as the office door is shut, Malcolm begins to pace. He may need to rest his eyes from reading for so many hours straight but his brain never really shuts down. As he moves, he talks, just generally out loud into the ether as he works out all of the cases that had been close but missing some crucial element to possibly be their killer. Gil half listens, but mostly he watches. 

He watches Malcolm’s hands, how they move so animatedly as he talks. His suit jacket has been forgotten who knows where and his sleeves are folded neatly up to his elbows. The only visual indications that he’s out of sorts at all is that his tie is slightly loose and there is a single lock of hair hanging over his eye. Gil leans back in his chair, hands steepled, listening, watching, thinking.

Originally he had brought him here to break into his locked desk drawer and have a drink. But Malcolm has been going non stop for three days and obviously needs more than that. There’s no convincing him to stop for a proper rest - to go home and start over in the morning. He won’t sleep - Gil knows that much. But there is another way he can force a hard reset on him.

“Malcolm.”

His voice is sharp, with a purposeful edge to it.

The kid stops abruptly mid sentence and turns to stare at Gil, lips parted in surprise. Gil never calls him by his name at the office and certainly not in that tone. That is reserved for more intimate settings.

Gil nods towards the closed door. “Turn the lock.” Then he gestures to the empty space at the center of his desk right in front of him. “And come here.” 

Malcolm tilts his head with a hint of confusion but smiles softly - curious - and does as he’s told.

Once he’s situated, perched on the edge of the desk with his knees pressed together and feet balanced just on the corner of Gil’s chair, he looks down expectantly.

“You said you needed a break,” Gil starts quietly, resting a hand on Malcolm’s ankle. “But you’re still going a mile a minute.”

“There’s still a killer out there with more known targets,” he replies as if Gil is a bit dense. 

“All of whom have a protective detail.”

Malcolm sighs and looks away. “I know, but -”

“Something else has you worked up.” Gil moves his hand up Malcolm’s leg, rubs at his shin with slow motions before coming to rest at his knee. “Tell me.”

When Malcolm bites at his lip and drops his head Gil’s chest clenches slightly. Seeing him unsure of himself, worried that he’s slipping, that he’s wrong, is not new. At work he mostly keeps the worst of his insecurities under wraps, giving off an air of confidence that to most people just looks like an overabundance of cockiness. But Gil has seen him at his worst, knows what the slide looks like, knows that this is the start of a vicious cycle of wrong answers and self hatred that just leads to him missing more details. Though he always gets there eventually, it inevitably ends with a crash from mania into dark depression that is painful to watch - especially if he’s too late to save everyone. 

“Malcolm.” Gil lifts the younger man’s leg and guides it over so that his feet are planted on either side of Gil’s lap and shifts his chair forward, leaning in to hold Malcolm by the hips.

“The profile is a mess,” he admits and pinches his nose. “I’m scared. I’m scared I can’t pin down the profile and someone else is going to get hurt because of me.”

Gil brings a hand up to cup Malcolm’s face and rub a soothing thumb over his cheek. “First of all, I don’t know how many times it’s going to take to get this through your thick skull,” that gets a small huff of a laugh from him at least, “but if you’re not the one pulling the trigger, it’s not your fault. No matter how long it takes us to catch him.”

“But -” 

Gil shushes him with a single finger pressed to his lips. 

“Second, have you made any improvements in the last six or seven hours we’ve been holed up in that conference room?” 

“Not a damn one.” He admits, dropping his head again.

“Take off your tie.”

That makes Malcolm snap back up. “Here?” He looks around the office, eyes wide. It’s one thing to touch like this in a locked office on an abandoned floor. It’s an entirely different matter to go where Malcolm must sense Gil is going to take this. “Are you serious?”

“Do I look like I’m joking?” 

Malcolm leans forward just enough to meet Gil’s lips in a soft kiss. Gil indulges him for a moment, takes him in, lets him feel the comfort and reassurance in the movement of their mouths and tongues.

But eventually, Gil has to take control. He slips his fingers into Malcolm’s hair and gives it a gentle tug to pull him away. “You know I’ll stop if you say the word.” It had taken Malcolm a long time to get through to Gil that unless he expressly said stop - or used their safeword in more intense situations - Malcolm was always ready to go. It had taken even longer for Gil to actually act on it even after he believed it.

“Take. Off. Your. Tie.”

“Yes, sir.”

A thrill goes through Gil’s body at his words.

While Malcolm slowly tugs at the fine silk he bites at his bottom lip, keeping pointed eye contact with Gil. The fabric slips with a whisper of a sound through Malcom’s collar and he finishes by draping it around Gil’s neck instead.

As he works, Gil breathes out over his own hands to warm them up before reaching out for Malcom’s shirt buttons. The younger man runs hotter than anyone Gil has ever met and hates cold against his constantly overheated skin.

One by one Gil works open Malcolm’s buttons, letting the tips of his fingers ghost against his stomach, his chest, his shoulders. Malcom’s muscles twitch and jump at his touch, his chest rising and falling faster with every caress. Gil kisses his chest, slips Malcolm’s shirt down his arms while teasing at his nipple with his tongue.

“Gil…” his name is a beautiful whisper on Malcolm’s lips.

“Put your hands back on the desk and don’t move them unless I tell you to.”

His movements have Malcolm stretched out and on display for Gil, the arch of his back tilting his hips out so that the growing tent in his pants is more prominent. It also gives him leverage to rock up with his feet planted firmly on the chair.

Gil palms him through his pants and bemoans the fact that he can’t reach up and capture Malcolm's groan with his mouth from where he is. But he has more important things to do with his lips. He works Malcolm’s belt and fly with practiced ease and a steady hand. 

Once Malcolm’s cock is free he leans over him to let out a hot, heavy breath over his length. He keeps watching Malcolm’s reactions as he kisses just under the head, then down at the base. A visible shiver goes up Malcolm’s body when Gil presses his tongue firmly against him and licks a stripe up to the tip. 

“Gil…” He moans as Gil takes him in his mouth. Gil’s own cock throbs at the sound, at the taste and feel of him on his tongue. It’s a sharp tang of salt and the smooth glide of his skin against his lips that Gil is always craving, always thinking about. He loves this, loves the way Malcolm reacts to him, the sounds he makes when Gil takes him apart.

While he moves up and down, working his tongue in all the ways he knows Malcolm loves best, Gil slowly pulls at Malcolm’s pants, slipping them further down every time the younger man lifts his hips. Once he gets them far enough, he has to pull off which makes Malcolm whine and drop his head back, exposing his long, beautiful neck. 

As soon as he’s removed Malcolm’s shoes and the rest of his clothes, Gil situates Malcolm’s legs over his shoulders and stands. From there he can control the angle of Malcolm’s hips, the bend of his body, everything. Malcolm groans when Gil grinds down against him, leaning forward to get in a quick kiss before pulling him gently by the hips so his ass hangs off just enough for the perfect access. 

Gil pulls the packet of lube from his wallet that Malcolm has made him keep there since the incident in his car a few months prior. Then he makes quick work of his own belt and fly, groaning as he takes himself out of the confines of the too tight fabric. 

He doesn’t take his time opening Malcolm up, rather using quick, sure, well loved movements that not only give him just enough of a stretch but wind the younger man up bit by bit. 

“Every time we’re alone in this office, I think about this.” Gil’s hands shake as he slides his cock between Malcolm’s cheeks, teasing at his entrance. “About you, layed out here, legs spread wide just for me.” 

He lines up so he can sink into him, watching the way his dick slips into Malcolm’s slick, greedy hole. 

“Ah, fuck. Sometimes...” Malcolm’s head thunks against the heavy wood of the desk when Gil rocks his hips with a few slow, shallow thrusts. “Sometimes I push your buttons on purpose. See if you’ll snap. Punish me.” 

“You think I don’t know that?” Gil pauses so he can lean forward, keeping a firm grip on Malcolm’s hip with one hand while propping himself up on the other. He mouths at the side of his neck, bites at his shoulder. “You think I can’t tell when you’re genuinely arguing with me and when you’re just being a little shit?” Gil slams his hips forward in one, quick movement to punctuate his words, then pulls back and does it again before Malcolm can do anything more than gasp for air. 

He moves in quick, sharp thrusts, losing himself to the heat of Malcolm’s body. 

“You still…” Malcolm does his best to rock his hips to meet Gil’s movements using what leverage he has with his ankles at Gil’s shoulder. “You still give me what I want, after though.”

“That’s because we both want it, baby.” 

Malcolm opens his mouth like he has another retort but the snap of Gil’s hips seems to knock it out of him. 

“I like marking you up, leaving your beautiful ass red and sore.” Gil takes in a deep, shaky breath, starting to lose his own ability to speak clearly. “Fuck - love it when you push my buttons.”

They move together like that, Malcolm’s legs hooked over Gil’s shoulders, Gil fucking into him with snap after snap of his hips. For a long time the only sounds in the room are the heavy gasps of their breath and the occasional moan from Malcolm’s lips. He’s normally so loud, so abandoned in his pleasure that Gil almost regrets missing out on it this time.

_ Almost. _

“Gil, please.” Malcolm is shaking, hands twitching like he desperately wants to disobey, to reach out and touch. “I need, I’m so close.” 

“No.” Gil grits out between clenched teeth. Malcolm has never come untouched, and they’ve tried many times, in many creative ways. But that doesn’t mean Gil’s not going to push him to the very edge every chance he gets - just to see. “Not yet.” 

He pulls on Malcolm’s hips again, dragging him forward just a little more before guiding his legs down so they’re cradled in Gil’s elbows, opening him up wider. His movements become harder and deeper, using the hard, unforgiving surface of the desk as a counterpoint. Malcolm’s quiet sounds all but vanish at the new angle, replaced with quick gasps and violent trembling as Gil rocks into him over and over, keeping him balanced on the edge. 

The tension in his own body is ready to snap, curled up in all his muscles tighter and tighter every time he bottoms out, every move he makes. Malcolm is a delicious heat around him, tight and beautiful spread out before him. Gil reaches for Malcolm’s cock and wraps his long, callused fingers around it and begins to stroke. 

Malcolm’s reaction is immediate and heavenly. He throws his head back with another high pitched gasp and a quiet string of curses spoken on the inhales trying to catch a breath, repeated over and over until he goes completely silent and comes. His mouth is open, neck stretched out long and body trembling around Gil.

The sight is a punch to Gil’s gut and he follows him over immediately, toes curled in his shoes as his whole body snaps with pleasure. He doesn’t stop his movements, fucking into Malcolm as they both shake with their release until he can barely breathe from the intesity of it all.

When he stills Malcolm pushes up on his hands, never losing contact with the desk, and captures Gil’s lips in a passionate kiss, nipping at his mouth and pulling him in with just the way his tongue moves. They stay locked together like that for time that stretches beyond what Gil can keep track of, Gil holding him close, kissing him deeply, losing himself in the man he loves. 

As soon as he can stand without his legs shaking beneath him, Gil reaches in his desk for a box of tissues and takes his time cleaning them both. He kisses down Malcolm’s leg, beginning with the inside of his knee, up along the sensitive flesh of his thigh as he works. 

Once he’s cleaned them both up enough he can tuck himself back into his clothes Gil sits back in his chair. “You can let go of the desk now.”

The change is instant. Malcolm nearly melts down into Gil’s lap, twisting and turning until he’s straddling him, hands locked around the back of Gil’s neck and pulling himself in close for a deep, filthy kiss. He’s still completely naked with the exception of his socks. Malcolm clings to Gil who is once again fully dressed, put together enough that with a swipe of his hand through his hair he could be presentable at work. Gil lets himself get lost in not just Malcolm’s kiss, but the feel of his bare skin beneath his hands. He’s still so sensitive, always reacting to every touch, every caress against his spine, his legs, his ass. 

Malcolm, surprisingly, is the first to break away. But he doesn’t go far, kissing down Gil’s neck and biting at his ear. It makes a shudder go downs Gil’s spine, his spent body recognizing the sensations and interested but not enough to get anywhere. 

“When we’re done with this case can we,” Malcolm’s voice is soft and small, “can we take a couple days and maybe sneak off to the Hamptons? And the whole time just… do this?”

Gil smirks. “You mean fuck or have me boss you around?”

“Well, both,” Malcolm admits after looking Gil in the eyes again. “But mostly the second.”

That steals the breath from Gil’s lungs. 

Malcolm had joked a few times about taking the dynamic they flirt with in the bedroom outside of it. But the seriousness in his gaze now tells Gil maybe he wasn’t being as facetious as he’d once thought. Maybe he needs to let go and have someone else take over in more than just their sex life. 

Gil curls his hand around the base of Malcolm’s skull and gives him a gentle squeeze which has the expected reaction of a soft sigh from the younger man. 

“Hell, Malcolm. You know I’d do anything for you.” Malcolm kisses him again but it’s shallow and awkward due to his wide grin. “We’ll go and you won’t have to make any decisions. I’ll pick what you wear, what you’ll eat, what you’ll do for fun…”

“Hopefully it's mostly fun.” Malcolm leans in and begins kissing along Gil’s jaw, running his hands through his hair and generally snuggling in close. 

“Well, that’s for me to decide, isn’t it?” Gil asks while leaning his head to the side to give Malcolm more room to work. 

Suddenly, Malcolm is gone, sitting up straight with his eyes wide and blinking rapidly. “Wait.”

Gil has to shake his head to clear the fog from their last few minutes. “What’s wrong, baby?”

“I think I just figured it out!” Malcolm almost jumps off the chair and grabs his clothes, not bothering with his underwear as he pulls up his pants, fumbles with his buckle then shoves himself into his shirt. 

“The case?” Gil asks, watching with a mix of amusement and apprehension.

“The profile!” Malcolm’s brilliant smile turns on him and Gil can’t help the way his heart skips at the sight, like it always does. “It’s a mess because it’s two people! But there are enough similarities in the two I couldn’t see it. While their motives and backgrounds are the same, one plans everything and the other takes orders! That’s why I couldn’t pin just one person, why there’s not one single case all the judges have in common. Because there are two! And I think I know who one of them is.” As he speaks he buttons up and tucks his shirt in but doesn’t bother fixing his messy - obviously just well fucked - hair before bolting out of the office the second he’s sufficiently dressed.

Gil runs a hand down his beard and kicks Malcolm’s shoes and forgotten underwear under his desk then bends to unlock his scotch drawer. He might as well have a quick drink like he’d originally planned while Malcolm is out saving the world. 

Before he can bring the glass to his lips, Malcolm is barrelling through the door again and nearly knocks Gil over with an enthusiastic kiss.

“Thank you,” he says, as sincere and heartfelt as Gil has ever heard him. “For always taking care of me; I love you.”

Gil smiles and plants a soft, lingering kiss on Malcolm’s cheek. “I love you, too.”

  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> [If you're PSON trash and you know it, join us on the discord!](https://discord.gg/dbDGFE)


End file.
